with your pinky.”
Sergey watches closely as I bend each of the metal fingers. It’s strange to look down at a hand made of hollow metal and be able to manipulate it like this.
“You’re doing great. Of course, some fine motor skills, like writing or playing an instrument, will take time, but most of our patients are able to adjust very well in only a matter of weeks. Thank you for your donation. You’ve helped us provide the benefits of this sophisticated magic to children all around the world.”
It isn’t my money, but I guess it isn’t Andrew’s either. Not really. That money belongs to the people the Monroes took advantage of to get it.
“Alright, I’m ready to shift. Do you want to go into the other room?” I ask.
I haven’t shifted at all in the last three months even though I technically could. The doctors said it might be painful until my stump healed completely, and I guess part of me wanted to wait for this moment.
When I take my wolf form, I want to feel whole.
“I’ll just turn around and let you get undressed.”
At this point, being naked in front of people doesn’t really bother me, but Sergey still turns around and waits.
Over the last few months, I’ve gotten better at taking my clothes off without my right hand, but I pull at the neck of my shirt with my new metal hand instead, just to try it. The less I focus on it, the more natural it feels. I unbutton my pants with the metal hand too.
This is much easier than doing everything left-handed.
Once all my clothes are off, I close my eyes. For the last decade, I’ve lived my life like I wasn’t a red wolf shifter. I even took a different name that denied my heritage. Part of moving on with my life was the acceptance that I had to become someone new.
Now that I can be a red wolf again, it doesn’t come easily. It’s like moving those metal fingers for the first time. I have to focus.
The shift happens slowly. My tail extends first, then my snout lengthens. As my arms transform into legs, my body leans forward until my front paws land on the cement. I barely notice the metal limb as I take my first steps as a wolf in over sixteen years.
The smell of the garage is potent, and I can hear everything that’s happening outside. I twitch my ears, and the movement reminds me so much of my childhood, my chest aches. I long to run through the forest. But not by myself—with my pack.
Ken, H, and Steppe have built a makeshift pack with the red wolf shifters at the sanctuary. Even Manny has found something similar to a pack through the vigilantes he works with. Including Anne, who he moved in with after his location was discovered by the ice dragon shifters. She only lives an hour away from here, and I could visit him if I wanted to. But I haven’t yet. I assumed that I didn’t need anyone but Andrew and my new business.
Maybe I do.
Sergey twists around to look at me, his gaze lowering to my metal foot. He smiles. “Very good. Can you walk for me, please?”
My stump smarts a little as I take a step.
“It’s normal for it to hurt at first. You’ll have to get used to putting weight on your residual limb, but you’re doing great.”
Walking on four feet gives me a sense of stability I haven’t felt in a long time. Even if it hurts, I need to accept that I’ll always be a red wolf shifter. I may not believe in their God. I may not live with my family. But this is a part of who I am.
I almost let the breeding pits steal that from me.
Despite the pain, I take a few more confident steps, and a name long-forgotten echoes in my head.
Matthew.
Not Matt. My mothers hated that nickname. Matthew Samuel Longfellow.
I guess all porn stars take a stage name. I like the name Timber, and I don’t think I’ll stop using it, but I don’t think I want to put that name on our children’s birth certificates. They’ll be half red wolf shifter too. Do I want them to be ashamed of that?
No. Not ever.
Matthew. Matthew. Matthew.
Memories come flooding back. I’m twenty-four and woken by the alarms that went off when there were intruders in the compound. I offered to go check on the fence. They said